The Philosophy of MacArthur Park
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Oneshot romance. Tim is listening to "MacArthur Park" and learns its true meaning. It probably won't end up like you expect it to. A bit of a surprise ending.


**A/N:** First off, this is a romance. Go figure. Second, it came about because I was suddenly possessed of a desire to write a story based on "MacArthur Park" (better known for its chorus of "Someone left the cake out in the rain!"). This is more than likely a result of staying up too late. Whether you like it or not...well, that depends on how you feel about the pairings present in this story. I'll leave that up to you.

**Disclaimer:** I do not now, nor will I ever own NCIS. I'm not making any money on anything I've written here. ...actually, I've never made any money on anything I've written anywhere. I also do not own "MacArthur Park".

* * *

**The Philosophy of MacArthur Park  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

Kate found Tim sitting pensively, staring at his monitor. Then, she noticed there was some music playing.

"_Someone left the cake out in the rain  
__I don't think I can take it  
_'_Cause it took so long to bake it  
__And I'll never have the recipe again!  
__Oh, NO!"_

"Tim, what are you doing?"

Tim looked at her, face reddening. "Oh, nothing, Kate. What are you doing here? I didn't expect to see you."

"I just had a couple of things to finish up here. Couldn't leave them any longer. What are _you_ doing? Is that 'MacArthur Park'?"

Tim laughed. "Yeah."

"Why are you listening to that?"

"Abby asked me what it all meant and I have no idea, but I realized that I'd never heard the whole song before. Only the chorus."

Kate smiled and set down her jacket on her desk before joining him. She leaned over.

"Who is that singing?"

"Richard Harris. Donna Summer recorded it, too, but Richard Harris' version is longer...more words. Less disco."

Kate chuckled. "Well, isn't it pretty obvious what it's about?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's about a guy wearing striped pants that were ironed, a girl in a yellow cotton dress that looks like waves...oh, and let's not forget that omnipresent melting MacArthur Park with the cake in the rain."

"Come on, Tim. You're not even trying!"

"I know that it's supposed to be symbolic, but come on! A cake? In the rain?"

"With green icing," Kate said. "Don't forget that. It's a very poignant song...if you can get around the chorus."

"Not likely. The whole, _oh no_ part at the end when he says he's lost his recipe for it...it's hard to ignore."

Kate grabbed an empty chair and rolled it over to Tim's desk and sat down.

"Okay, start it going again."

"It's a long song. Are you going to analyze every line?"

"No. I don't need to, Tim," Kate said, smiling. "Start it up."

Tim smiled and pushed play again.

"_MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark  
__All the sweet, green icing flowing down...  
__Someone left the cake out in the rain  
__I don't think that I can take it  
__'Cause it took so long to bake it  
__And I'll never have that recipe again  
__Oh, no!"_

"Okay. Tell me what that means, Tim," Kate said.

"It means that someone was really wasteful with their cake...and that they need to organize their recipes better."

"You've been hanging around Tony too much. Don't make me headslap you, Tim."

"You wouldn't."

"Don't tempt me."

"You tell me."

"The cake is a symbol for lost love. The love was left, abandoned maybe, and the singer knows that he can never have that love again. It was too hard to create it the first time...and no matter who else he meets...it will never be the same. The same cake, the same love."

Tim looked wistfully into Kate's eyes. He reached out a hand to touch her cheek but stopped just short of stroking her face.

"That's rather melancholy, you know."

"I know."

"So...why use such a silly metaphor?"

"I don't know. I'm not...whoever wrote it."

"Jimmy Webb, apparently."

"And who is that?"

"The guy who wrote 'MacArthur Park'," Tim said with a smile.

"Do you need help with the verses?"

"Why compare love to strip-ed pants, uh... 'pressed in love's hot fevered iron'?"

"It's a vivid image, isn't it?"

"Sure, but it's silly."

Another verse began.

"_There will be another song for me  
__For I will sing it  
__There will be another dream for me  
__Someone will bring it"_

Tim was quiet as the song continued. Kate took his hand in hers

"_I will drink the wine while it is warm  
__And never let you catch me looking at the sun  
__And after all the loves of my life  
__After all the loves of my life  
__You'll still be the one."_

"Well? Do you think it's silly now?" she asked, softly.

Tim didn't answer as the song went on.

Then, suddenly, a musical interlude began, complete with percussion, upbeat and lively. Tim grinned.

"How are you going to explain this part away?"

"Time filler," Kate said, instantly, nodding sagely.

"Time filler? The song is seven and a half minutes long!"

"Jimmy Webb said that he had to have a song longer than Don McLean's 'American Pie' and so he padded it out with this out-of-place music in the middle."

"Don McLean?" Tim repeated. "Doesn't work. That song not only was released _after_ this was written, but it's over a minute longer!"

"Tim, you know too much."

"You can never know too much."

"And you never know enough, do you."

Tim shook his head. "Nope. Never. So...why the music?"

"It was the sixties, Tim. There are no explanations for the sixties, especially the later sixties which led directly to the seventies. Come to think of it, there's no explanation for the seventies for that matter."

"What about the eighties?"

She smiled playfully. "They were to make everyone forget about the sixties and seventies...and look back with nostalgia on the fifties."

"And then that led to the nineties...and no one was happy?"

"In fact, they must have been pretty angry."

"Probably. People weren't angry in the sixties?"

Kate laughed. "Nope. They were too busy getting high to get mad."

"What about all those protests?"

"They weren't musicians. The musicians were all getting high. Just look at the Beatles."

"Point taken."

"_I don't think that I can take it  
__'Cause it took so long to bake it  
__And I'll never have that recipe again  
__Oh, no!  
__Oh, no  
__No, no  
__Oh NO!"_

The last melodramatic notes faded away, leaving silence behind.

"I miss you, Kate," Tim said finally.

"I know you do," she said. "You'll have to search for the recipe. See if you can find it again."

Tim laughed, but there was more sadness than anything in it.

"I have to go now."

Kate stood, moved the chair back to its desk and walked over to pick up her jacket.

Tim hurried over to her, before she could leave. "I'll never have the recipe again, Kate,"

Kate chuckled. "Now, Tim, just because I explained that the song is poignant, that doesn't mean it gives you license to use it in normal conversation."

"I don't think this qualifies as normal."

"No, you're right. It doesn't. I've got to go, Tim." She hugged him tightly and whispered in his ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Tim whispered back and closed his eyes.

_"Find a new recipe, Tim," _she said.

The elevator dinged and Tim quickly opened his eyes and lowered his hands.

"McGee, why are you still here?" Ziva asked as she came into the bullpen. "I saw your car in the parking lot. I thought you had left already."

Tim looked around the empty bullpen once and then smiled.

"I was listening to a song."

_A new recipe..._

"You could not do this in your apartment?"

"Oh, I could, but I did it here. Have you ever heard 'MacArthur Park', Ziva?" Tim asked.

"It is a person or a place, yes?"

"No, it's a song. Well, there _is_ a MacArthur Park in LA, but it's a song."

"This is the song you were listening to?"

"Yeah. You want to hear it? It's different."

Ziva smiled. "With you, McGee, it is bound to be. I would love to hear it."

"Great!" Tim pulled a chair over to his desk and patted it. "It's a long song. You'll want to sit down for it."

"How long _is_ this song?"

"Over seven minutes."

Ziva sat down and listened as the first lyrics began.

"Did he just say that he was like pants?"

Tim laughed. "It's a song about love, Ziva."

"Wait..."

"_Someone left the cake out in the rain..."_

"McGee, you cannot be serious."

"It's a very poignant song, Ziva." Tim paused. "I'll explain it to you. Over dinner, maybe?"

"Are you asking me out, McGee?"

Tim flushed. "Yeah...Yes, I am. Are you going to say yes?"

Ziva leaned back in her chair and looked at him.

"_There will be another song for me  
__For I will sing it"_

"Very well. You will explain to me how cake in the rain is like love."

"Great. Let's go."

Tim turned off his computer and grabbed his jacket. Ziva walked with him, silently staring at him as they left.

"What?" Tim asked. "Is there something on my face?"

Ziva smiled. "No. You are different, tonight, McGee. I am trying to figure out what it is."

"I feel a little different."

"It is a good change. Now, why would a park be melting? And how is a cake like love?"

Tim laughed and escorted Ziva to his car.

"Well, you see, the chorus is a metaphor about how a person..."

FINIS!


End file.
